Off-Season in Ocean City

The beach is nearly empty now.
A few old codgers walk their dogs.
The shops and burger stands
Are shuttered.  Trash blows past.
Would it be glib to say I count
Myself among the pieces which
Go tumbling by?  You're gone,
Your towel and bathing suit now
Gracing Punta Cana or Barbados,
Somewhere to the south.  Meanwhile,
I fight the biting wind and mutter,
“God, it's just November,” knowing
That there's not a chance you'll
Come back before May.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2022-11-07 at 13:37

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arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Many of my trips and journeys were off season both from reasons of schedule and budgetary constraint. And for years work schedule was opposite of the normal rush of the day so while I was headed to work and home in ease the rest of the pack in the opposite direction were jammed and congested.